Heir of Stars and Shadows
by The Silver Bullet
Summary: Harry Potter is the long lost heir to the night court in addition to being the savior of the wizarding world. Torn between two worlds, Harry will have to decide if he wants to take his place as the savor of the wizarding world or heir to the night court.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is merely in the testing experimental stage. I haven't seen to many Court of Thorn and Roses/HP crossovers especially ones with AU parentage. So...decided to experiment. If anyone's interested in me continuing let me know through reviews/adds. I had fun writing this, would not mind writting more but there needs to be some interest for me to.**

Prologue

Tamlin said things were going to be different, but they weren't. The guards were still around her all the time, and when she asked him about it he quickly dismissed her.

"I can't have you taken from me again, Feyre." He said, "You don't know what it did to me last time."

She saw her room when she had returned to his home. How every piece of furniture, every gown she had was utterly destroyed. He had ordered her a new wardrobe. The dresses were beyond frilly, they even more elaborate than they had been in the past. She knew that was partially the reason he ordered them, though he told her otherwise.

Corsets. Every damn dress he had initially given her had a corset. They had never really been in the style in the village she was from, when she was wealthy and when she was destitute. However, she was more than used to wearing them now. The last time she had worn such a contraption had been that day of her wedding—the wedding that hadn't happened thanks to Rhys.

The mere thought of her mate's name caused Feyre to frown. She tried not to think of Rhys, it was too much to bear. God knows, just being here enough had caused her to regress in a lot of ways.

She was having those dreams again of Under the Mountain, of being tortured by Amarantha, she watched Rhys being tortured, which was something new. And without a doubt like clockwork she was throwing up again. Most of the muscle that she had built up from her time in the Night Court was gone again, save for her breasts they were as large if not larger than before if a bit sorer.

That should've been her clue, besides the fact that she had stopped bleeding. Though to be fair, she had never been regular. And as a fae her cycles hadn't exactly been the same as a human.

Had she known, she probably would've tried to have done something to protect herself and the babe. Not that she had access to her powers, she found that out a few days after she had arrived here and learned that Tamlin was dousing her food with something that neutralized her powers.

To protect her, of course. Well, that was his excuse. That was always his excuse.

Everything was always to protect her. It drove her mad. How could he think she wanted to be with him, when he was like this. But talking to him, was like talking to a wall. Honestly, Feyre preferred those days where he wouldn't give her any attention.

He still thought they were together—in every sense of the world. Which included him coming into her bedroom every night.

She tried to push him away at first, told him now. But eventually he would not take it. "Feyre, the best thing to do is to move forward." He said when she said she wasn't ready it.

"I…" She said.

He put one of his hands on her. She inwardly cringed at his touch, but she kept a neutral look on her face as she said, "Tamlin, I can't. Not yet. It's too soon."

Not to mention the thought of him touching her made her inwardly repulsed. She felt as if she'd be betraying her mate, even though she knew Rhys would be understanding about the situation. The same thing had happened to him Under the Mountain, he had gone through the same thing.

The first time she had tried to fight back, she remember him pushing her down telling her it would all be okay—that it would be better if she didn't fight it. But she didn't listen, she kept screaming. And then he started slapping her so hard, that had she been remember feeling her jaw pop. She remembered trying to raise her shields only he couldn't and soon after that the skimpy thing that Alis had put her into that evening was ripped off of her body as Tamlin began pawing her.

He didn't care that she wasn't responsive, just as long as he got his.

Feyre quickly learned to lie there when it happened. The quicker she laid down, the quicker he'd leave.

He never stayed very long once he was finished. It wasn't like it was with Rhys…

She didn't know when she realized she was with child. It wasn't like the symptoms were that noticeable—for one thing, she had been getting sick ever since she got to the Spring Court and she had blamed it on the recurring nightmares…, but now she hoped that maybe it meant the baby she was carrying was her mate's and not Tamlin's.

She didn't care.

No matter who the father was, she'd love her child. The babe was what she was fighting for, still finding a way to leave this hell hole.

Because now it wasn't about finding out information, he spy mention was finished long ago. Tamlin had made sure of it.

And especially now that she was with child, she was scared to death to make one wrong move and Tamlin knew it.

She sighed as she put her hand on her rounded stomach. She knew she had to have become pregnant soon after being here—or dare she hope the babe was Rhys.

She didn't even dare try to think of that out of fear that somehow Tamlin would read her mind. And she knew for the sake of her child, she shouldn't be hoping that he was Rhys's but it was the only hope she had.

The fact that she might share a link otherwise with Tamlin for the rest of her life made her shudder.

She never thought about having children, at least not this soon. Rhys and her had talked about it briefly, that they wanted to wait. She was in no way ready to be a mother, especially in this war. But it seemed like fate had gotten the better of her, or maybe Tamlin had.

He had seemed exceedingly happy when she realized that she was with child.

 _"Nothing can bond two fae closer together than a babe, Feyre." He told her when the news became obvious._

 _It was the first time that Feyre had seen Tamlin truly excited in a long time. Since before she was made._

 _Becoming a fae had certainly put a strain on their relationship; being mated to another fae ruined the relationship all together._

 _Not that Tamlin knew about the mating bond between her and Rhys. He merely thought the bond was a part of the bargain that they had made._

 _"What about a mating bond?" She found herself asking. A part of her knew asking that question was just rubbing salt into the wound—that there was no mating bond between them—but she just wanted to see his reaction._

 _"Having a child together is its own sort of bond." He stated, "And as I've told you before Feyre, mating bond or no bond I am yours. Now, here drink your tonic. We have to make sure the baby's healthy._

He was hers when he wanted her. Everything was always on his terms. Throughout the pregnancy, Feyre found as the pregnancy passed she became more and more dependent on Tamlin. She also found herself forgetting things, and finding herself rethinking things.

She hadn't even been able to talk to Rhys through the bond in months. Not that she had tried—that much—both had agreed it would be dangerous in the brief conversation that they had before she left Tamlin. Not that she even thought of Rhys now. Some days she didn't give a thought to the high lord of the Night Court at all, like he was a nightmare.

Tamlin wanted to get married before the babe's birth much to Feyre's disdain.

 _"_ I don't want another disaster like last time," She told Tamlin as he told her his plans to have a big elaborate ceremony on the equinox.

Yes, it had really been that long. She had arrived a little after the fall equinox. She was well within the second trimester of her pregnancy, visibly showing. She didn't see the point of having an elaborate wedding, or for that matter a wedding at all. "It won't be a disaster," He said, "It won't even be that elaborate of an affair, I learned that he likes to intrude on showy things."

For a moment Feyre bit her tongue wanting to make a remark that Tamlin was the one who was showy. The outfits he forced her in were proof enough of that, but after as soon as the rage came it left her. She didn't understand why she felt angry. This was Tamlin, her protector.

He looked at her noticing the blip in her mood, "It will be fine this time, I promise."

How could he promise such a thing? He didn't even know what she felt. He really hadn't even tried to talk to her since she returned, just that over time she'd get over her ordeal.

Ordeal.

He had tried to act like nothing had happened, like Feyre was still the girl he fell in love with all those years ago. And she was it was just that…

"It will just be me and you, Lucien, and Ianthe." He said in a soft voice.

"It still doesn't feel right to me…"

"Feyre," He said, "He can't hurt anymore. I saved you."

She shuddered as she thought about how Tamlin said he saved her. Then she snarled as she looked at herself in the mirror in her latest monstrosity of a wedding dress that Ianthe had chosen for her. This one was different, yet similar to the one she had worn only a year or so earlier. Obviously, the design of the gown had been altered in order to incorporate her expanding figure. However, it was just as wrong as the first.

Her thoughts briefly drifted to another gown that she wore. A gown that was tailored just for her in a secret ceremony where…

And then she forgot.

Feyre felt like she looked like the embodiment of spring if not even more so than at her first wedding. While the gown might have not been lacy petticoat atop lacy petticoat as before, it still maintained a quality about it that was spring. The dress was a simple feel about it, and looked like a gown the pagan goddess's of old might wear. It was draped perfectly highlighting her growing bump, making her look to be the perfect embodiment of Spring's fertility. Or should she say Tamlin's fertility. Her hair was worn down this time in curls. Only a garland of roses adorned her head—undoubtedly Ianthe's touch.

While she didn't feel much these days, she still felt an unbinding rage towards the priestess. Especially when she started talking about the baby.

She still remembered Ianthe's reaction to her pregnancy

 _"This proves that you and Tamlin belong. The Mother has blessed the union with a child."_

There was something so calculating about he way she looked at her. As if she had known.

Known what?

Feyre blinked, as she found herself at lost again as there was a knock on her door.

She didn't even tell the knocker to come in when the door opened.

Feyre honestly wasn't surprise. Privacy had all but vanished since she had returned to the Spring Court.

Tamlin had made sure of it.

For her safety and now the babe's—of course.

It was Alis she clicked her tongue when she saw Freya. "They're waiting," She told her.

Freya nodded as she turned to go towards the door. Alis shook her head at her and motioned for her to stop.

"What?" Feyre asked.

"You don't have to go through with this."

"What?" Freya was caught off guard.

Not have to go through with this wedding? That was ridiculous. Going through this wedding. Was what everyone had been telling her to do—well Tamlin and Ianthe, and anyone else who was allowed to talk to her.

Which wasn't many people these days come to think of it. Even Lucien's presence n her life had dwindled.

As she was thinking this Lucien seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"I'll take this from here, Alis."

She nodded, "I'll make sure that wretched wraith gives you two a moment. Talk some sense into her, Lucien."

The maid then turned to Feyre one more time, "Remember, Feyre, you have a choice."

After she left Lucien turned towards her. "We need to talk."

"If you're asking about Elain, I told you already. I have no idea where he sent her." Feyre said.

And she didn't, have any recollection of what really happened with Rhys. Or at least at that moment. She didn't even know why she was thinking of him as Rhys at all. He was Rhysland, her kidnapper. The one who kept her away from her beloved.

Lucien frowned as he looked at her, "Something is not right."

Feyre didn't say anything right away until she said, "It's the garland isn't it. I told Ianthe it was too much. I really don't know why Tamlin has her dictating the wedding after _everything."_

Lucien practically growled when he heard Ianthe's name mentioned. Well, at least someone understood where she was coming from.

Though, she had given up long ago arguing with Tamin about Ianthe.

" _I know what she did to your sisters seems wrong, but she had her reasons."_

Yeah, reasons to throw Elain and Nesta in the cauldron. Feyre had no idea where they were, or for that matter how they were holding up.

"I keep telling him not to trust her," Lucien said looking at Feyre. "I do not like how much control she has over the court."

"Neither do I," Feyre replied.

"Do you?" Lucien said, "Because you seem to be quite buddy, buddy again. This wedding for example, you don't want it."

Feyre gave him an odd look.

"Don't bother lying. I'm not Tamlin, Feyre. I'm not stupid. I saw the looks you gave him when you first came here, you didn't want to be here."

She still didn't be here, or at least a part of her didn't. There another part of her that seemed resigned. Why leave, she was safe.

Lucien frowned as he looked at her, "There's something wrong."

"What?" She said caught again in a daze. I'm sorry, Lucien, I guess my thoughts are caught up with the wedding and the baby."

He shook his head as he looked at her before he finally said, "Try conjuring those wings again."

"What?"

Wings? What was he talking about.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about?"

"I don't know what you're saying. I don't have wings, I…"

"You don't remember that day in the forest?" He asked.

Feyre frowned before she finally said, "A lot of things are blurry about when I was away, Lucien. Tamlin thinks Rhysland had a failsafe, if I was to ever break free…"

"You didn't break free, Feyre." Lucien snarled which had Feyre giving him a confused look.

"But I did," She said, "Tamlin took me home."

"Against your will, "Lucien said, "And he did something to you. Or Ianthe did."

"I don't…I don't...they wouldn't do anything to me. Not Tamlin."

But Ianthe?

Feyre certainly didn't trust her, not after what she did to Nesta and Elain, but at the same time…

"What's wrong with me?" She found herself saying out loud.

Lucien gave her a quizzical look. "Feyre?"

Feyre shook her head as another round of dizziness came over her. She wanted to say something, but what. Again her thoughts and words seemed to get away from her. She notice Lucien frowning at her as he murmured something under his breath.

"What?" Feyre asked.

"We're getting you out of here now." Lucien said grabbing her hand and winnowing them out of the manor.

* * *

They ended up in what appeared to be a small hunting lodge of sorts.

Feyre found as she looked out the large window in the cabin. They were definitely not in spring lands anymore. There was a brisk chill to the air, like fall.

"This cabin was in my mother's family." Lucien explained.

"We're in the Autumn Court?" She said, "Isn't that unsafe?"

"Normally, I would agree with you, but I don't think the Spring Court is exactly the safest place for you at the moment. Especially given your condition."

"Tamlin would protect his heir." Feyre said automatically.

Lucien didn't say anything, rather he just raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Feyre said. "Tamlin is already protective of his heir you and I both know it."

"Oh, I'm aware Tamlin would be protective of his heir. But it's not his child, is it, Feyre?"

Feyre gave him an odd look. "Of course it is, whose child would it be."

 _Rhys's._ A little voice in the back of her head said. It was so faint now, like everything else.

She looked at him, "I don't understand."

"You looked like you did, for a second. Tell me, Feyre, how much do you remember of your time with Rhylsand?"

"Nothing," She said suddenly. "I remember nothing."

A part of her was screaming that there should be something there, that there was something there. But she just couldn't pinpoint where exactly that part of her was coming from.

Lucien frowned. "You were there for six months, and you're saying that nothing happened?"

Feyre frowned, "Something did happen…I just can't, Lucien I can't really recall anything. This isn't right."

"It's not," He motioned for her to sit down on one of the chairs in the lodge. The chair's reminded Feyre of something that might've been in that cottage she and her family called home for years upon years, they were covered in animal hides. However, unlike the patched up furniture that was made up of necessity the chairs seemed like they were made for a king. Or as Feyre wearily thought, a high fae. "I have my own suspicions but I'm not sure."

"Now's not a time to be cryptic, Lucien." Feyre snapped. She was actually surprised at how aggravated she was. The pregnancy had tended to make more docile than she was normally. In other words, it caused her to act very un-Feyre-ish.

"Finally," He said with a small smile.

Feyre shook her head at him, "You're happy I'm pissed?"

"I'm happy that you're acting remotely like you again not Ianthe's doll. I should've known that something wasn't right sooner, I've just been…"

"Overwhelmed with Elain." Feyre stated.

She knew how difficult it had to be for him, being apart from his mate. Something about that resonated with her. Probably when she was away from Tamlin. No, that didn't sound right.

She frowned as Lucien looked at her, "Are you okay, Feyre?"

"It's not right," She said again. "Lucien, what is going on?"

"I suspect you're being dosed with a couple of potions." He stated bluntly. "Or maybe more than a couple of potions."

"Potions?" Feyre said. "I don't remember taking any potions other than the tonic…no, you don't think?"

 _Stupid_. A voice in the back of her head screamed. How careless could she have been. She should've been more skeptical about the tonic than she was. But she had thought, she had thought Tamlin wouldn't do anything to hurt her or the babe.

"The baby," She finally said to Lucien.

"I'm not a healer," He said, "But I suspect that the tonic won't hurt the child, if that's what you're asking. Tamlin wouldn't want to hurt his own heir."

"But he would want to hurt me?"

"Feyre…it's not that and you know it…. "

Did she?

Did she really?

She frowned, as she found the sudden onslaught of a headache. "I need to lay down."

Lucien frowned, "Of course, the bedroom's in the back. There should be some clothes in the wardrobe that should fit if you want to change."

She nodded, grateful. The last thing she wanted to do was continue to wear yet another disastrous wedding gown.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, her head felt a little clearer. She was able to make sense of things a little more. Like the fact that she could actually focus on Rhys and that he might be her baby's father without getting a headache.

She frowned as she heard voices coming from the other room.

"The dosage is quite high," The voice said. "It's been in her system for quite awhile, and it's overwhelming the effects of her blood. I'm not even sure if it would work, or for that matter what it would do to the babe."

At the mention of the baby, Feyre put her hands protectively over her abdomen. She would not put her child's life at risk.

Frowning she looked in the room, and found a robe had been set on the chair that set next to the bed. The robe matched the nightgown. It was made out of a soft looking flannel material. Warm, but not overly so. Perfect for the brisk days of fall. The garment did fit (sort of). It strained quite a bitaround her belly. Feyre frowned, not realizing just how heavily pregnant she really was until now. Surely, she wasn't _that_ far a long. Ianthe had said she was only at the beginning of her second trimester.

But again, this was Ianthe.

After she tied the robe, she walked in the room, to see that a woman was sitting next to Lucien.

She didn't looked like she belonged to the autumn court. Her features were sharp, and reminded Feyre vaguely of someone else she knew. She couldn't quite pinpoint the name though, as her attention drew towards the mechanical hand that the woman had it oddly reminded her of Lucien's eye.

"Feyre this is Nuan. She's the best alchemist slash healer I know."

Nuan rolled her eyes. "He's just saying that to be kind."

"It's true though," Lucien said giving her a wry look. "She's been helping me look into the tonic that Ianthe has been throwing down your throat."

"I'd hardly call that poison tonic." Nuan said looking at Feyre. "You seem to be in better condition than you should be."

"Sit down, Feyre," Lucien said. "This isn't going to be a hard conversation."

It turned out she had been dosed with a combination of fae bane, forget me not potion, a mind altering draught, and a blood binding potion of all things. Each potion had its own was volatile; the combination together was unprecedented and could lead to lasting consequences.

"Lasting consequences?" Feyre asked.

Nuan nodded her head solemnly, "The effects could be permanent if not treated accordingly. Then there's the fact you're with child. How far along are you?"

"I honestly don't know. I was told I was sometime in the beginning to middle of the second trimester, but I think I may be further a long than that," Feyre said eying her stomach.

"You're not sure about the date," Nuan said with a frown.

"Honestly, I don't remember a lot of things these days." Feyre said, "It has gotten worse as the pregnancy has progressed."

The alchemist frowned. "I think they probably have been upping the dosage. This is bad."

Feyre didn't need Nuan to hell her that to know it's bad, but she didn't say that. Instead, she said, "Please, tell me the baby is going to be alright."

Nuan and Lucien gave each other looks.

"You have to save my baby." Feyre said, "Nothing else matters."

"Does it?" Lucien said his voice, "Feyre, think about what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying," She hissed. "And damn the consequences I want to save my child."

"You don't even know what the consequences are." Lucien snapped.

"Then tell me."

"Nuan," Lucien said asking the alchemist rather than himself to explain. Perhaps, it would be easier for him. But not for Freya.

Nuan frowned, "If we give you the antidote at full dose now it will kill the babe, and even at that we don't know if you'd be able to completely recover. Some of these potions can't even be cured by an antidote."

"And if we wait to save the babe."

"You'll more than likely severe permanent side effects." Nuan said. "And I can't be sure what the baby will recover."

"What do you mean, recover?" Feyre asked.

"The babe is getting nutrients from you. Therefore, it's been exposed to the potions you've been taking as well." Nuan said.

Feyre looked at the alchemist in horror. "Surely, there has to be something we can do."

Nuan frowned, "As I told you previously, administering the antidote at this stage would likely cause the babe to die. However, we might be able to try giving you a diluted form of the antidote. However, I don't know how much good it would do you."

"But for the babe?"

"I honestly don't know. However, it's less likely that the effects of the potion will permanent for the child if we begin it now. If we wait though…the child will be permanently stunted."

"Then we'll do the alternative form of the antidote." Feyre said.

"You didn't even let me tell you of the consequences." The alchemist stated.

"It's the only chance for both of us though." Feyre said.

"For the babe for sure," The alchemist said with a sigh. "I don't think the alternative antidote will help you, Cursebreaker. In fact, it will progress the side effects of the concoction that you were given. That once the babe is born the potions effects will be completed."

"I don't…"

"I'll be altering the antidote so it doesn't kill anything foreign in your body, such as the babe." The healer explained, "However, by doing this a full dose of the actual antidote will no longer be a viable option for you in the future."

"Can't the alter form of the antidote work?" Feyre asked. "I mean, it's going to help the babe, why shouldn't it help me."

"Because the concentration of antidote will not have the same effects. Think of it in terms of your blood," The healer said. "Lucien said you were gifted with the lord of Dawn's gift of healing, is that correct?"

Feyre looked at Lucien, "She analyzed your blood, Feyre."

Feyre reluctantly nodded. "Yes."

"The potions you have been given have increased and the amount of potions in your system has grown and developed like it has intended. Rendering your blood pretty much useless."

Feyre frowned, "So what you're saying is that if I don't have the antidote in its full amount, it's likely to be overcome at some point by the potion that is still in my system."

The alchemist nodded. "Now, we could try to accelerate the birth of the babe…"

"No," Feyre said putting her hands protectively over her protruding stomach. "I won't do that to my child. It comes first. Even if I do end up being Tamlin's love slave."

Because that undoubtedly was what the potions were intended for.

* * *

The diluted antidote had more side effects than initially thought. For one thing, Feyre found herself having no energy at all and was soon on bed rest.

Lucien was right, no one seemed to know where this cabin was. He had told her his mother's family was quite paranoid. When he had given up on trying to get her to drop this ludicrous plan.

"You'd do the same," Feyre snapped when he had pleaded with her to just take the full version of the antidote, to risk her child's life. "Don't deny it, you and I both know if you were in my position you'd do the same."

"I still don't have to like it." He said frowning at her. "I can't believe I didn't interfere earlier."

She shook her head. "I'm sure Tamlin kept you in the dark. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you were blinded by loyalty."

"I'm sorry about that day in the forest, you know."

She knew what day he was talking about. Memories of the past were a little clearer now. Just like the fact that this child might not be Tamlin's.

Rhys.

Thinking that she had forgotten him like some sort of bad memory made Feyre grimace. A part of her wanted Lucien to take her to her mate, even though she'd probably only have a few months with him at best before…

Looking at Lucien she said, "I need you to take my child when this is over."

"What?"

"This child does not need Tamlin destroying his life like he destroyed mine. And you know Tamlin will stop at nothing to get his hands on him. And if he finds out…if he's not Tamlin's like I suspect."

"He'll kill him." Lucien said with a resigned sigh.

"You do realize what you're asking me to do is likely going to get me killed."

"You're already putting your life at risk," Feyre pointed out. "I'm sure by now Tamlin has a price on your head for taking his bride away. If he does find out it's you."

"I can't take the child to _him_ though Feyre. It's too big of a risk."

By him, she knew Rhys. And unfortunately she agreed. "I know, but there has to be some way to keep the child safe. A way from this mess. And he would understand, I know he'd do the same thing."

Lucien frowned, "I…there might be something. But if I attempt to do this, just know that there might be a way the babe cannot return to this world."  
"World?"

"Hybren isn't the only one thirsty for power." Lucien said, "Beron had his own quests once upon a time. The point is, I know how to access another world. I can make sure your child has a good life. If that's what you want."

Feyre nodded, "More than anything."

"Than it will be done." Lucien said, "Mother, help me, how I'll accomplish it. But it will be done."

* * *

Feyre was in labor sooner than she hoped. Unfortunately, like everything else in her life, it was done at a very inconvenient time.

Hybren apparently was making his move and attacking the Night Court per Lucien or at least that was what Feyre had managed to get out of him.

"Tamlin sanctioned it?" She asked.

Lucien rolled his eyes, "Of course, he sanctioned it. He thinks Rhys has taken you again. As I told you, I made sure I had a decoy. Besides, it's not like Hybren really gives a rat's ass what Tamlin thinks."

He had a point there. Tamlin was just a pawn of Hybren's nothing more.

"I told him not to make an alliance with him," Lucien said. "But he was insistent."

"Insistent because of me." Feyre grimaced knowing that as soon as she gave birth, there was a high chance that she would be adoring Tamlin again.

The thought of it made her want to puke.

Most things did.

It was a side effect of the antidote.

Since taking the diluted cure, Feyre had lost all of her appetite. Her belly while larger than it had been a few months ago was the only part of her that was large. She was merely living off of nutrient potions alone at this point.

"I hate this," She said, "My people shouldn't have to suffer because of me."

"Not you. Tamlin." Lucien said. "And trust me, Rhysland was prepared."

"He's always prepared." Feyre said with a small smile as she thought of her mate. "I wish he knew about the babe, Lucien. I'm pretty sure it's his."

More than sure since she started taking the antidote, she felt the child. She felt that it was their son the one that she saw all those months ago when she visited the Bone Carver, despite what the blood binding potion that Tamlin had given her.

Lucien smiled sadly, "There's still time…if you want me too…"

"No," She said, "You promised the life your taking my child too…he'll be safe."

"He will," Lucien told her.

He hadn't told her much of where he had planned to take her child. Only that he had found a family. A suitable family, whatever that meant. He had already made all the arrangements, and the family was more than willing to take in the child.

Feyre sighed heavily hating that she had to give up her child.

"They'll tell him about you, you know." He said, "I made her promise that. He will be told that his mother gave him up to protect him, he'll know about you."

"What about Rhys?" She said.

"Or Tamlin." He pointed out, "You and I both know the baby could be Tamlin's."

Feyre blanched as she thought about her former lover. The man, who after she gave birth, she'd undoubtedly adore again despite—well, despite everything he had done to her.

A part of her grimaced at the future that awaited her. Undoubtedly, to become a brood mare for Tamlin, to become Ianthe's doll. She didn't want any of it. She wanted Rhys, their child, she wanted to be the high lady of the Night Court.

But she didn't have that option. Not when her child's life was at risk. For his future, she'd accept the future that Tamlin wanted for her. Not that she'd really have a choice after she had the child.

"Feyre…" Lucien said.

She frowned realizing she had gotten lost in her thoughts. "I'm just thinking about afterward…how I'll be. I probably won't remember any of this. I'll probably look at him like his dewy eyed bride. It makes me sick."

"I told you I'll have Nuan keep on researching. Who knows, maybe the diluted antidote won't work like we think. Maybe you'll be cured."

She laughed. "Oh, come on, Lucien. Don't sugar coat things. Look at me. We both know that the potion is already fighting the antidote. The only reason I am even getting anything down at this point is because of the potions Nuan is feeling me with."

He sighed, "You remember more though. She says the baby…the baby's levels are a lot lower than before. In another month when you give birth, he should stand a chance."

A chance to get past what Tamlin and Ianthe put in front of him. "What if…"

"The woman I'm bringing him to," Lucien said, "Is a trained healer in their world. She knows what's going on. She should be able to help him if there's any remaining side effects."

Feyre frowned as she thought of another woman calling her son mother and what could've been when the first spasm of pain came.

It started so gradually, but then intensified. She bit her lip. It was too early and she told Lucien as much.

"It's not time yet," She hissed as she felt her water break.

Despite Feyre's pleas she was in labor. The birth itself was quick and violent. Lucien had not had time to get Nuan to the cabin. All Feyre could think throughout the labor was her son. Would she even remember seeing him and that Rhys would never see his son.

Oh, how sorry did Feyre feel for her mate. And for the first time in a long time as she pushed, she thought she could feel their bond. That bond that had been silent for so long. She pushed her thoughts through it one time telling her mate she was sorry.

Not that Rhys would know what she was sorry for, he had no idea. She had made sure of it. It was for both of their safety.

As she was thinking this another rush of pain came over her as Lucien told her to push. The pain was unbearable, but she managed to push until she heard what was the most glorious noise in the word—her child's cry.

Feyre leaned over to see Lucien holding her child. For one moment she felt relief as she smiled and her eyes met the child's eyes. From deep within her, she thought she heard someone—Rhysland—calling her name and then she knew no more.

* * *

 **Chapter One: We see how Feyre and Rhys's child is fairing after eleven years.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Still updating this one though definitely not my first priority. There's a time jump here to the end of Harry's first year. I will be going back and forth in future chapters. So, if you're more interested in Harry's life pre-Hogwarts or earlier on in the first year I'll be adding scenes as well. Note, this Harry is a bit different from cannon Harry he has a different parentage than cannon Harry. And quite honestly, I can't see the child of Feyre and Rhys acting like Cannon Harry. Again appreciate any adds and reviews I get to this one.**

Chapter One: Near Death Experience

 _Eleven Years Later: Hogwarts Castle, Middle of Nowhere Scotland_

Harry Potter was not a normal boy.

He was told this from a very young age via Dursleys.

By all accounts he looked normal enough. Maybe a little bit on the scrawny side, with hair that never seemed to lay down flat, and ears that might've been just a tad bit on the pointy side.

One of the few things he got from Lily Potter besides her infamous green eyes. Or freakish eyes as Aunt Petunia called them. The wizarding world at least had a better opinion of Lily, or at least they didn't talk about her the way Aunt Petunia did.

As for James Potter, people said he looked like him, but honestly other than similar coloring and hair that didn't lay quite flat, Harry didn't really see it. He guessed people would see what they wanted to see though.

Perhaps, that's why everyone was so shocked when he was sorted in Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor—which was his parents' house. Harry wasn't too surprise though. He liked to learn. The hat knew that, ergo Ravenclaw. Though, it did seriously consider Slytherin.

 _"You could be great, you know." He remembered the hat telling him. "It's all in you, but there is always a deepest desire is knowledge, isn't it, Mr. Potter?"_

Harry enjoyed his house, while Ravenclaws weren't as loud and bold as Gryffindors or as aggressive and ambitious as Slytherins, there was something quietly powerful about the house of knowledge. Besides, everyone knew that their common room was by far the best with its airy layout, great views complete with skylights, and single room dormitories.

Plus, it allowed him to have friends from other houses without having to worry about ridiculous house rivalries. Although, right now he could sort of understand his Slytherin friends' desire to strangle Gryffindors.

Hermione Grange had seemed like a good person to be friends with. While the girl did seem to be a bit of a know it all, she did know her stuff and she was sort of like a sad puppy at the beginning of the year. Her housemates had clearly ostracized her for being overly aggressive in class. Harry didn't like bullies, so naturally he took her under wing.

Of course, her isolation in Gryffindor changed after Halloween. Harry frowned as he thought about that stupid troll. He should've let that monster club Ron Weasley. But instead, he ended up saving their asses and in the process Ron became a tag-a-long friend whenever he hung out with Hermione who usually complained about the fact that the two of them studied.

If Ron asked him if he wanted to play chess one more bloody time he'd shove that stupid pawn up his ass.

He didn't know why he had such an adverse reaction to Ron Weasley—maybe it was his reaction to him on the train. He wanted nothing to do with Harry until he was his scar and then he wanted to be his best buddy. He oddly reminded him of Draco Malfoy, though he knew the redhead would blanch at the comparison. So would Draco.

Funny, how much they'd get along save for the fact that one was in the house of the snakes and the other was a lion.

Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zambini—his friends in Slytherin—found it hilarious too.

Despite the fact that he tried to make himself out to be the quintessential Slytherin, his own house wasn't amused with him.

Or at least the Slytherins worth talking to. He wished Hermione would've saw as clearly as Daphne and Blaise did to Ron's stupidity as they did with Malfoy's. Alas, though, him trying to save her life endeared him to her—although, she still got annoyed with the redhead's poor studying skills.

However, that didn't prevent her from getting involved in his shenanigans like the Philosopher's Stone business. Which was why Harry was risking his life right now, to save her ass.

He had told her this was a fucking stupid idea, but noooo she believed the evidence that Ron Weasley had pointed out to her. And had decided to confront that blasted three headed dog, not thinking to conjure some sort of musical instrument with her after the anvil size hint that great oaf Hagrid had given them awhile back.

Harry knew he shouldn't think so poorly of the gamekeeper, the man did try to be nice (when he wasn't kissing the headmaster's arse), but the gamekeeper clearly lacked brains. Also, seriously, buying a dragon's egg? How was that smart? Unlike, Hermione and Ron, at least he had enough common sense to tell a staff member.

Professor Flitwick seemed just as annoyed as Harry did about Norbert. Ron, was annoyed that Harry, had tattled. Apparently, that wasn't something that the Boy Who Lived did.

Boy Who Lived.

He was still getting used to that moniker. He hated it. Hated how the wizarding world had this big idea that he was some foolish Gryffindor.

 _"It's probably the Harry Potter books." Daphne had told him when he complained about it earlier. "You really need to hire a solicitor, Potter. You're missing out on a lot of royalties. Might I recommend my mother."_

He did take her up on that advice. And Mrs. Greengrass had been making a lot of headway getting those God-awful books pulled, but that still didn't effect how people viewed him like Ron Weasley.

And it was only because of Hermione that he was in this hot mess.

He didn't know why he was a good friend.

 _Probably because you had no friends before this year_ , a voice in the back of his head said. He inwardly cringed as he thought about his childhood at the Dursleys. Needless to say, being raised by Petunia and Vernon hadn't given him a lot of friendship opportunities and he had thought Hermione was a pretty good friend.

However, this really was the final straw, he thought as he muttered a charm to play the harp someone had apparently conjured—he wasn't guessing Hermione or that moronic redhead since they had both standing there about to be Fluffy chow.

"Seriously, Hermione." He snapped at her.

The girl looked at him, "Oh, thank Merlin, Harry. I forgot the charm to get the harp to play. I think Fluffy took me by more surprised than I originally thought. I know I've read about Cerberus's before, but it's so different in real life. You know."

He ignored inwardly cringing at the three-headed dog's name. It had three heads. It should've had three names as far as Harry was concerned, but schematics. "You're going back to your house now."

"No, Harry," Hermione said. "Snape is after the stone. Someone clearly conjured the harp here. We have to stop him."

"We can tell a responsible adult." Harry said, "You don't want to get another detention, do you, Hermione?"

He knew that had to sting. The whole Norbert debacle had cost her and Ron fifty points each from Gryffindor house, costing them the lead in the house cup. This in particular, made Daphne and Blaise both giddy. Personally, Harry thought the house cup was a bit idiotic, but didn't say anything. He was just glad (again) that he is in a neutral house.

Though, Hermione wouldn't talk to him for a week afterwards since he had apparently snitched on her to Professor Flitwick.

Harry didn't see it as snitching though, just not wanting the gamekeeper to lose his home by a fire-breathing dragon. But again, schematics.

"We don't have time, Harry." Weasley said. "We have to get the stone now. Hermione and I are going, and you're not going to snitch on us."

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's snitching, and then there's just doing the right thing. Meaning, not being an idiot. I'd prefer not to be an idiot, but hey by all means go through that trap door and die. I did my part saving you from the…"

" _Petrificus Totalis._ "'

Fucking Ron Weasley, he thought as he had been hit with the petrifaction curse. Though, as much as he was cursing Ron he was equally cursing himself. He should've known better and had his guard up, but there he was lying down on the floor next to the drooling three headed dog.

"I'm sorry, mate." Ron said, "But we got to stop Snape. I can't have you snitching."

"Ronald, was that really necessary?"

God, he hoped Hermione would stun the bastard.

But of course she didn't. Instead, she brought up the shit Ron said. Harry was really going to have to rethink being her friend. He knew people could make some stupid choices—but come on.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Hermione finally said after berating Ron. "But we need to find out what's going on with the stone. You'll be fine."

She then headed down the hole where Ron had stepped down into minutes before where Ron was yelling about being trapped.

It was Devil's Snare he soon heard from their voices as he struggled with his current position.

Being trapped here like this gave him flashbacks of his childhood of being locked in the cupboard. Trapped.

How Harry had hated being locked in that tiny, dark room. It wasn't the darkness that bothered him. Harry actually liked the dark. There was something unnaturally comforting about darkness. However, being locked in a little room, not being able to move, it reminded him too much of his fucking cupboard.

Fucking Dursleys.

As an eleven-year-old, he knew he probably used that word too much. If Aunt Petunia had ever heard him say it, he'd get hit with the fryer pan for sure. However, sometimes an expletive served a purpose such as now.

He tried to remember what he could recall about full body binds. Obviously, the spell didn't require much if an imbecile like Weasley was able to cast it. Therefore, it should be easy to break.

After all, it was the very basics of magical theory: magic is only as strong as the caster. Of course there were caveats that could make a spell stronger—familiar magic, runes, aids through potions, or through the seasonal cycles. But this was just a simple jinx.

A jinx casted by an idiot.

Harry knew he should be able to break it. He knew the counter curse, but it wasn't like he could cast it…well, at least in the traditional way.

Magical theory said with enough free will, one could be able to break most spells. Of course, there were caveats. The killing curse, for example, was something you couldn't really will away. But the imperius curse was. A simple curse like a body bind, Harry thought he should be able to will away if the drive was there.

And Merlin knows, he wanted to break free. Still, as much as Harry tried to say the incantation in his head, he wasn't having much luck. He shouldn't have been too surprised. He had found that magic, in general, worked different for him than his other peers. Wands were supposed to be a way to channel and focus magic, but Harry found his wand to be a hindrance if anything. While he could perform spells with his stick, it just felt wrong. Much like the incantations. He felt like he shouldn't need to say them. That his powers, well, his powers usually relied much more on his intent and emotions.

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe he was thinking about the incantation too much and not the intent. He had a similar problem in Transfiguration earlier this year.

A few seconds later, her found the body bind loosening as he heard a scream.

Hermione!

Harry then did something he shouldn't have done, he ran and jumped down that trapped door.

The Devil's Snare was gone, or it hadn't grown back yet from when Hermione had destroyed it with a fire spell earlier.

Harry was sort of annoyed with himself for being so rash, but he ignored it. As annoyed as he was with Hermione, she was still his friend and if she was in real danger, he might not have time to find Flitwick or someone responsible.

Besides, he sort of wanted to curse Ron Weasley when he saw him. If that idiot called him mate one more time…

He was thinking this when he opened the door and saw what laid in front of him there seemed to be several enchanted keys above him and on the ground laid Ron Weasley—who seemed to have idiotically gotten on a broomstick and ended up with a key or keys in the back and was unconscious due to crashing on the hard stone ground. He was still breathing—Harry was slightly upset about this.

Of course, this was what had caused Hermione to start screaming.

Harry shook his head as he saw her, "Seriously?"

"How?" She asked.

"How did I get out of your idiot friend's body bind?" Harry said, "Simple wandless magic. If you spent as much time reading magical theory as you did reading _Hogwarts A History_ , you'd understand that magic can be casted wandlessly."

"I have read magical theory books you know that…" Hermione shut up getting the hint, "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. Obviously."

"Yes, obviously." Harry said. "How did Weasley end up bludgeoned."

"It was awful," Hermione said. "He grabbed one of those brooms to grab the key and he ended up hurt."

"Did he grab the key?" Harry asked.

"No," She said. "The keys attacked him before he was able too. I should've known he wouldn't have been able to do it. He did okay in our flying lessons, but he isn't as good as he says he is. Can you fly a broom, Harry?"

Yes, he could fly. Madam Hooch said he was a natural and should join the school team next year, but honestly Harry felt inhibited when it came to flying with a broom. Which was ridiculous. But he didn't tell this to Hermione instead he said, "I think the brooms are a red herring."

"A red herring, really?"

"Ever heard of the summoning charm?" Harry asked.

"That's a fourth year charm," Hermione said.

"And this is an obstacle course that is suppose to prevent a thief from taking a priceless artifact. I doubt that they care if a couple of first years would be able to handle a summoning charm."

"Well, that's bullocks then, we can't stop the stone from being stolen."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I really think someone is trying to take the stone, Harry." Hermione said, "I know you're arguments are sound but…"

"Regardless, we're going to have to move forward with this charade." Harry said, "Especially since _he's_ bleeding. Enchanted harp playing or not, I do not like our chances with a Cerberus when it can smell blood."

Hermione gulped. "So, how are you planning on getting the key then?"

Harry frowned, "I've actually practiced ahead a little."

He then muttered the summoning charm and one of the keys that was lodged in Ron's back flew into his hand.

"Ew," He said as he muttered a quick cleaning charm. "That was nasty."

Hermione's response was that she vomited on the floor. "We have to help him. Harry do you know any healing charms?"

"Can't say I do," Harry said. "But we should be able to fasten some sort of tourniquet to stop the bleeding until we can get help."

"Oh God," Hermione said, "A tourniquet, I think I remember that. Yes, Mum and Dad made sure I took a First Aid class. I even know CPR."

"That's good," Harry said inwardly noting she might need to use it on Weasley. "The key was quite bloody. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure how much good the tourniquet was going to do him at this point. "Get him set up and then catch up with me. I figure the faster we figure out this mess of an obstacle course the quicker we can get help."

Hermione nodded, as Harry proceeded to see the next task in front of him which was a life sized chess board of all things.

Obviously, he was meant to play.

Harry had no time to waste. So, he did it the fast way. The challenge was obviously McGonogall's, so he merely cancelled the transfiguration spells on the chess pieces. Leaving it to be a regular chess set that was ridiculously smaller.

He rolled his eyes, wondering what sort of challenge this was. Anyone who knew basic transfiguration should be able to how to undo the enchantments. It was after all one of the basic rules of transfiguration, what can be transfigured can be reverted to its natural form.

As soon as he made it across the room he noticed it. The pungent smell. He had only smelt that smell once before on Halloween: a troll.

Well, that explained the random troll in the dungeon episode, he thought, as he tried to figure out where the beast was.

He found out soon enough, the troll seemed to be knocked out already. So, someone was down here. That was surprising.

He had really thought this whole thing was bullshit. However, someone besides Ron and Hermione had bought this whole Philosopher's Stone rubbish. He frowned not knowing who he was going to deal with. He doubted it was Professor Snape. For one thing, he knew his cantankerous Potions teacher enough to know that he would've just outright killed the troll rather than knocking him out. And for that matter, Snape would've covered his tracks. Not left an unconscious troll in the hallway. Regardless, Harry hurried past the beast wanting to get to the next challenge.

Which was Snape's.

And it was as dumb as the rest. A freaking riddle to pick up a potion so you could walk through fire. Obviously, Snape didn't realize you could cast the same charm on you that all those witches did during the witch trials and be fine.

At least that's what Harry did. Which lead him to yet another room without an exit.

The only thing in this room was a mirror. Harry recognized that mirror enough; he had seen it around Christmas.

He remembered he encountered the headmaster when he saw said mirror in what he was more than sure what a setup.

 _"Ah, I see you have found the Mirror of Erised, my boy."_

 _There something distinctly creepy about the headmaster. Harry didn't know what it was exactly about Dumbledore that bothered him. He had barely interacted with the man, and he seemed nice enough. He guessed. But there was just something off putting about him._

 _And Harry always had a headache whenever he was around him, much like he had a headache when Snape was around him._

 _"Is that what the mirror is?" Harry asked since he guessed he was supposed to have some sort of reaction. It was obvious Dumbledore was prying for something. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know that._

 _"Yes," Dumbledore said, "Tell me, Harry, what do you see when you look at the mirror?"  
_

 _"A malnourished eleven-year-old." He snapped._

 _"You haven't looked in the mirror then?" Dumbledore said ignoring Harry's self-assessment of his physical health._

 _It was true though. The Dursleys didn't really provide him with adequate meals. Or really adequate anything, really. Not that anyone cared to ask him about his home life. The fact that Dumbledore was obvious to his comments was a testament to this._

 _"No," Harry said, "Should I? Obviously, you're keen on having a conversation about it."_

 _"I would advise you not to look at said mirror," Dumbledore said. "I believe that looking in it would cause you too much pain."_

 _Harry raised an eyebrow._

 _"The mirror shows us our deepest desires," Dumbledore said, "I see myself with socks."_

 _"Socks?" Harry said, "Socks are your deepest desire?"_

 _He sense that that was a lie. Okay, he knew that was a lie. Whose deepest desire was fucking socks?_

 _"Every year for Christmas I hope I get socks and no one…"_

 _Harry tuned out the obvious lie as he glanced in the mirror. He had never seen even a photograph of his parents, and was interested in seeing at least how they looked. He really didn't care about Dumbledore's warning. The man obviously had planned this meeting._

 _Harry was surprised though, when he didn't see the image he thought of when he thought of his parents. Rather, than a red haired woman with brilliant green eyes, he saw a dark blonde woman with fearsome looking gray eyes wearing a long flowing gown. There was something familiar about the way she looked, Harry could quite pinpoint what it was. He did notice that her ears were like his. Next to her was a handsome dark headed man with startling violet eyes. Like the woman, there was something familiar that he couldn't quit pinpoint. Harry couldn't focus on them for too long though, because Dumbledore soon ended his rant and Harry knew he better not be caught looking in the mirror._

 _"Now, that you know what the mirror does, I can't have you tempted. I'll be moving it shortly." Dumbledore said._

 _Whatever. Like Harry cared. Instead, he wondered who the couple was in the mirror. He wanted to see his parents, but the man and woman in the mirror clearly weren't Lily or Jams Potter._

Or at least he hadn't cared too much until now coming face to face with the mirror again.

He supposed there had to be some sort of riddle to all of this. His deepest desire though right now was to get out of here in one piece alive. He knew whoever had knocked out the troll had to be around here somewhere.

"So you we.. ..were interested in the stone after all?"

"Professor Quirrell?"

Now that actually caught Harry off guard.

He hadn't really given much thought to his bumbling seemingly moronic Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who had made him do what he thought was impossible—hate garlic. Also, he made Defense Against the Dark Arts almost as boring as History of Magic.

"Let me guess, you thought I'd be Professor Snape?" The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor asked surprisingly not stuttering for once. Maybe the stuttering was an act. It wouldn't surprise Harry at this point.

"No," Harry said, "Snape would be smart enough to dispose of the troll properly. It will wake up at some point and probably club you and me."

"He does have a point," A voice said from the back of Quirrell's turban.

"Merlin, you're possessed." Harry said, "This day keeps getting better and better."

"I am not p….pp…possessed." Quirrell said. "I am merely sharing my body with my lord."

"Sounds like possession to me," Harry said, "You do realize you'll likely die or have some sort of serious damage once said entity leaves you? It's feeding on your magical core to stay alive. That's not a good thing, professor. Obviously, you did not study magical theory and you call yourself a Ravenclaw."

Harry inwardly grimaced. He usually wasn't loquacious. But he was just trying to buy himself some time to figure out something.

Like maybe the magical mirror would open up and take him out of here.

Well, no. Dumbledore just said the mirror was an illusion. Like now, he was seeing those strangers in the mirror again. That man and the woman dressed in those strange outfits, while seeing them again peeked his interest it wasn't helping matters.

The only way either of those people would be any use to him is if they were here to stop whatever Quirrell was planning on doing to him—which based on how he was acting probably was going to be something worse than the troll.

"Let me speak to him, Quirrell." The entity said.

"Master, you're not strong enough!" Quirrell said but eventually relented since he was peeling his turban off a minute later. As he was distracted, Harry aimed a stunning spell, but Quirrell managed to step aside right in the knick of time as he turned around to reveal his other face.

"We meet again at last, Harry Potter." The entity said.

Harry frowned as he looked at the face. There was nothing recognizable about it, and it was definitely a face he would recognize. From the red eyes to the snake like nose, the face was definitely not human. "Harry Potter," It Hissed, "See what I've become because of you."

It didn't take long to put two and two together. The entity was obviously Voldemort.

"I thought you were dead," Harry stated.

"Obviously, you weren't told how powerful I am." The entity said. "You're not what I expected."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Besides one night where you killed my parents and tried to kill me, we never met. So, I don't see how you could really have that much in terms of expectations."

"Quirrell does tell me some about his lessons," Voldemort said. "I find it interesting you weren't sorted into Gryffindor like both your foolish parents."

"I like to read. So what?"

Voldemort ignored him, "You are very studious. Quiet. I almost expected you not to come. What changed?"

"Fortune and glory?" Harry said quoting a muggle movie about some archeologist that Dudley loved. A movie he was pretty sure Voldmort had never seen (hopefully).

"Sorry, I'm not convinced." Voldemort said before he added, "Yet, I can't see into your mind which is very unfortunate. Such intense skills for one so young. Especially for one who grew up with filthy muggles."

Harry inwardly frowned; he didn't know what Voldemort was talking about. He wasn't going to act confused though. Let Vodemort think he was powerful; maybe he could use it to escape.

"You're not going to tell me how you learned occulumency, Potter?"

Occulumency. Note, if he lived he needed to look that up.

"Care to tell me how you got stuck on the backside of Quirrell's head. I'd imagine you'd get motion sickness seeing everything backwards."

Voldemort didn't seem to be amused, "I'll show you how I deal with cheek, Potter. _Crucio!_ "

An intense pain came over Harry. He had never felt anything like this. Not even when his aunt had hit him with the frying pan and he had seen stars for days afterwards. Not even after Dudley and all of his friends beat him into a bloody pulp. Not even that one time where Uncle Vernon had threw him in the cupboard and his body slammed against the wall. This was something else. This pain was intense, like knives were being thrown at his body and simultaneously hitting him at the same time. At one point, it felt like he was having an almost out of body experience. He could hear himself screaming, but his screams didn't feel like his. All through it, he begged for someone help him and then he knew no more.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 Preview: I currently have a Rhys POV written up but it will likely be heavily revised. Its likely going to cover the following the fall out from having his bond with Feyre irrevocably broken, the state of things in the Fae world, and a possible heir bond. Stay tuned.**


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